


The Delicate Mechanics of The Second Chance

by blythechild



Series: Gift Fics 2016 [1]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Awkward Conversations, Dating, Denial of Feelings, Difficult Decisions, Established Relationship, F/M, First Dates, Friendship/Love, Gift Fic, Misunderstandings, Post-Divorce, Second Chances, Separations, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 20:27:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8547997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blythechild/pseuds/blythechild
Summary: Reid is trying to date again. But his ex-wife re-enters the picture and screws everything up. This is a work of fanfiction and as such I do not claim ownership over the characters herein. It was created as a personal amusement. This story is suitable for readers 14 and up.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For dionne_2k from her prompt: _Criminal Minds, Prentiss/Reid, Reid's ex-wife comes back into the picture_

He was almost assuredly going to be late if he kept second guessing everything. He pulled his jacket cuff back and to look at his watch. Yep, he had sixty seconds to get out of his apartment if he was still going to make it on time. He burbled quietly in frustration at his own neuroses and then glanced back up to his reflection in the bathroom mirror. The suit was good, his shirt pressed, his hair was… well, it was what it was. He wished that he could hide the dark smudges under his eyes just this once. Normally they didn’t bother him but this was a first date and surface impressions mattered…

His phone buzzed on the counter next to the sink, it’s screen blinking ‘Private Caller’ unhelpfully. He frowned as he flicked the screen to get further details and then sighed when he recognized the number.

“Not now,” he muttered as he ignored the call. Whatever the message was, it could wait. He looked at his watch again. Dammit… _late._

He collected his phone and dropped it into his jacket pocket as he hustled from the bathroom to retrieve his shoes (dress shoes, not sneakers, first impressions mattered). His stomach lurched a little as he finished tying them and then rushed to find his keys, wallet, and i.d. before racing to the front door. Now he was second guessing his suggestion that their first date should include a meal. He was starting to feel that he wouldn’t be able to keep anything down and that reaction struck him as a bit amateurish. He really shouldn’t be so nervous. It’s not like he didn’t have experience at this. And they’d already gotten to know one another via email and casual phone calls. A small spark of sadness bloomed at the center of him as he thought this, but he reminded himself that it wasn’t like the Maeve situation at all. And then a much larger flash of mourning washed over him when he thought _‘this is more like the nervousness you felt when… stop thinking about her’._ He grumbled to himself and firmly pushed all thoughts but his date aside. It was time to get on with things.

He quickly locked up and half-jogged down the corridor to the stairs. If he raced through all of the yellow lights he _might_ still make it on time. When he reached his car his phone vibrated in his pocket again, but he ignored it in favor of slamming the door, revving the engine, and peeling out of his parking space like a Formula 1 driver. All of those tactical driving skills that Hotch had spent hours teaching him ought to be put to good use for something. Tonight he was going to place all other concerns aside and try to be a normal guy for once in his life. Just dinner with a woman - honestly, how hard could that be?

\----

It turned out that he was only _slightly_ late and that his date found his mild distress about that amusing. Score one for adorable neuroses. In fact, Jennifer seemed very at ease for a first date and that calmed him a little in return. He explained that one of his best friends was named Jennifer but now that they’d actually met he could separate the two of them in his mind because she wasn’t at all like J.J. It all sort of tumbled out of him before he could stop it, and when he caught himself and looked up at her feeling his cheeks heat, she laughed gently at his awkwardness.

“I’m glad to have avoided any Jennifer confusion,” she smiled over the rim of her wine glass.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t be going on about other people. I should be asking things about you. That’s what first dates are supposed to be about.”

She laughed again - sparkling and delicate - and he wondered if it was genuine or just a way to ease the awkwardness. “I don’t think there are any rules to this sort of thing. Not anymore anyway.”

“Yes, we’ve come a long way from chaperoned, public outings and negotiating access with goods and livestock…” he mused half-seriously.

Jennifer nearly choked on her wine and then unsuccessfully tried to stifle a guffaw. So, the delicate laughter _was_ an affectation after all…

“Oh my God… that’s awful. I shouldn’t be laughing…”

“History,” he grinned and waved it off. “Both awful and funny in hindsight.”

She guffawed again - heartily and loud in a way that seemed familiar to him - and he thought _‘this might turn out okay after all’_. And then his phone buzzed on the tablecloth next to his wine glass.

_\- It’s important. -_

He frowned as he quickly tapped the screen and saw the previous ignored messages all from the same number:

_\- Just left a message. Call me back. -_

_\- I don’t want to harass you but this info is time-sensitive. Are you on a case right now? -_

“Do you need to get that?”

He looked up and saw Jennifer’s laughter slowly dimming from her expression. He straightened his shoulders and flicked the message screen closed.

“Nope,” he shook his head.

“Because if it’s work, I understand…” Her gentle, polite smile was back again. She didn’t understand - not really. She knew he was FBI and that he traveled often and usually without prior notice, but she really didn’t understand the urgent chaos that was his everyday life. None of them did - not Lila, Austin, Maeve, or Dorian. Only one person had ever got it and… _stop thinking about her!_

“It’s nothing that can’t wait.” He gave her his version of a polite smile and then flipped the menu open. “What looks good?”

They ordered and then miraculously fell into easy conversation. Jennifer was a microbiologist - a subject of which he knew refreshingly little - and he gratefully slipped under the sway of her professional enthusiasm and her animated expressions. She was very pretty. He thought things like that weren’t important to him, but there was no denying that he was becoming distracted by the contrast of her dark hair against her pale neck, the wide smile that accompanied her slightly unladylike laugh, and her dark eyes that were just as expressive as her words were. A warm familiarity lit him as he took her in. He was feeling quite relaxed in spite of himself and decided not to spend any time poking at that reaction in case he ruined it. He just wanted to enjoy the evening. It had been too long since he’d felt good in a woman’s company.

Their meals arrived and he encouraged her to keeping talking. She pulled up suddenly, a forkful of pasta hovering over her plate, as she narrowed her eyes and gave him a sly smile that made something in him sharpen delightfully.

“Are you trying to avoid telling me about yourself, Spencer?” she smirked.

“Not at all,” he choked, a little taken aback by the flash of longing she’d elicited. “It’s just rare for me to engage on a subject that I know so little about. And you’re very passionate about it…”

She flushed. “Well, it’s my life’s work so I have to be passionate about it. But I’m fully aware that it’s boring to everyone outside the microbiology field.”

“No. No, it’s not boring at all. You enthusiasm is compelling. It’s been ages since I had a decent conversation about hard science with someone. I forget how exciting those inquiries can be. Sometimes I even temporarily forget that _I’m_ a scientist. I shove it into the background more often than I should.”

She gave him a quizzical look and then it melted into a lopsided smile. “But shouldn’t this be an equal opportunity get-to-know-you session? Isn’t that another first date rule?”

“My job doesn’t make for good dinner conversation.” He gave her a pleading look, using his innocent, wide-eyed stare as the weapon so many had told him it was. “Please, would you tell me more about your current study? I really am interested.”

“Alright,” she murmured and then wagged a finger at him. “But I want some personal details in return before this meal is over. Deal, Doctor?”

“Deal,” he grinned and settled in.

They were halfway through their entrees when his phone buzzed again.

_\- This really isn’t a good time to engage your hermit mode on me, Spence. -_

He forced his eyes back to Jennifer and tried to act like it was nothing. She gave him a look that he would’ve categorized as ‘fondly exasperated’ if he knew her better.

“Same person?” she asked. He nodded a little sheepishly. “Why don’t you send them a quick response back. It must be important if they keep nudging you.”

He wasn’t sure if she was fishing for details or not, but her suggestion made sense. He tried to look abashed as he took her up on it.

“I’m sorry. It’s not important, I assure you.” His stomach soured as he said it, and he suddenly regretted the half bottle of wine he’d had. His fingers flicked across the screen and then pressed SEND.

_* Not now - busy *_

He put down his phone and looked back at Jennifer with a smile. “There. Now, you were just telling me about the problems you were having with the Swedish team’s control group parameters…”

His phone buzzed insistently.

_\- Are you angry with me? You’ve never texted in sentence fragments before._

_Listen, I wouldn’t be so persistent if it weren’t really urgent. You know that. -_

He sighed angrily, which seemed to shock Jennifer, and he picked up his phone again without excusing himself first. He just wanted one night - _one night_ of possible normality and contentment. Why was that so hard to come by?

_* I’m not angry with you, but I really am busy right now and this is becoming awkward. *_

“Who is it?” Jennifer asked as her generosity evaporated and was replaced by a look of dark concern. But his phone buzzed almost immediately.

_\- Awkward? How is this awkward? -_

His fingers flicked over the screen hard enough to make tiny clicking noises.

_* I’m on a date, okay? *_

The moment after he sent the message he felt sick. There had been a swell of triumph in his heart for a split second, followed by deep stab of grief. He’d responded in anger, even if he claimed the opposite. He was sure the messages weren’t intended to sabotage even though as he looked back up at Jennifer he knew that was exactly the effect they’d had. His expression collapsed and Jennifer’s froze. It was as if she were bracing herself for an unpleasant turn, like he lived with his overbearing Mom or owned ten cats or played in a Nickelback cover band on the weekends.

He sighed. “It’s my ex-wife.”

Jennifer’s expression didn’t twitch. She just calmly reached for her wine glass and took a sip. “You never mentioned you were married,” she said evenly.

“Yes, I know, and I probably should have.”

“Probably.”

“Listen, you and I have been getting to know one another and I wanted to keep things uncomplicated. I didn’t want our first meeting to be about trading our sad stories back and forth, ya know? I figured there would be time enough for that if you decided that you wanted to see me again.” He was panicking a little, words rushing out of him too fast. He’d been enjoying himself and that was all he really wanted from the evening. But it seemed that even simple wants came with complications tagging along for the ride.

Her expression cracked, as if his pessimism caught her off guard, and that’s when he realized that they really were just two strangers operating on patchy instincts towards each other; they didn’t really understand anything about one another at all.

“I understand if this puts an end to our evening,” he said quietly.

Jennifer hesitated and then reached out to worry the stem of her wine glass absently. “No… I get it, I guess. We’re not teenagers. We come with baggage.”

Reid nodded, though he’d never think of his ex as ‘baggage’. Never.

“Is she…” Jennifer stumbled and then started again. “Did she know? Is she trying to get back at you?”

“No, no…” he shook his head vehemently and waved his hands around for added effect. “She’s not like that, and no, she didn’t know. I just told her now so the texts will probably stop.”

“Well, if she didn’t know you were dating…” Jennifer looked confused. “What did she want? Wait… I’m sorry… that is _absolutely_ none of my business. Forget I asked.”

“It’s all right. You have the right to ask, all things considered, and I guess we’re through the looking glass now, aren’t we?” Reid tried for a smile but probably failed, as Jennifer didn’t return it. He gave up with another sigh.

“We’re friends. We started out that way and we remained so afterwards. We talk all the time. That must seem unusual, but it isn’t for us. I can’t imagine never speaking to her again.” The thought sent something cold and unpleasant through him, like he was deciding what part of him to cut off. “There was no acrimony, no one cheated on anybody, there were no kids to fight over… it was as gentle an uncoupling as one could imagine.”

“Well then, why did you two split up?”

“We used to work together. I mean, for _years_. I suppose that’s why the friendship has remained. We really know each other. And part of knowing one another is understanding how we feel about the work we do.” He took a beat and tried to frame the explanation in a way that might make sense to her. “Law enforcement is… the bonds are intense. It’s difficult for outsiders to grasp. Day to day the job is about life and death, especially in the unit where we worked. Those bonds don’t fade easily and neither does the drive to do the job if you make it past a certain point. It can almost take on the flavor of an obsession.”

“Okay…” Jennifer said it like she understood though she clearly didn’t.

“It took years for us to fall in love.” His stomach lurched uncomfortably and the sadness he’d felt earlier returned, slamming into his ribs like a weight that would sit there until it slowly suffocated him. “Maybe part of it was the job - that bond, that obsession - I don’t know. But in the end it was the job that separated us.”

Jennifer looked at him questioningly.

“She got a job offer that she couldn’t refuse, but it was abroad and I couldn’t go with her. I have… responsibilities here.” 

Reid swallowed hard at the choices forced upon him. He had a sudden, crystal-clear memory of the moment she told him about the offer, and the deafening silence that followed after as if he’d stepped off a cliff and could single out the instant where he hung in midair before plummeting downwards. He remembered that even then, at the beginning of their end, part of him suspected they’d lose each other. That was the moment he discovered that ‘brokenhearted’ wasn’t a metaphor.

“Anyway, I knew what the job meant to her - because I know what my job means to _me_ \- so I told her to take it. She didn’t want to in the beginning - it was probably the only serious fight we ever had. But in the end I knew she’d go.”

Reid’s fingers found their way to the edge of his phone and traced the rounded corners over and over again. Absently, he wondered if he’d hear from her again that evening and then he told himself to focus on the woman he was actually with instead.

“Honestly… if the job had been anywhere in North America we’d probably still be married…” _Shit._ Why had he said that? He was truly romantically inept. There was no way that Jennifer would ask for a second date now. And did he really mean it? Or was it just safer to pine for what he’d lost instead of trying something new? He looked up from his phone and saw that Jennifer’s stony expression had changed into something knowing and wistful. It stopped him in his tracks momentarily.

“You were right,” she said. “That’s one of the saddest things I’ve heard in quite some time.”

Reid withered in his seat. _Yeah, hopelessly inept._ “I know…” he gulped just as his phone buzzed again.

_\- Spencer, I’m so sorry. I don’t know why that scenario never occurred to me, but it didn’t. I guess I have to work on that._

_Please apologize to your date on my behalf if you haven’t already. Enjoy yourself. You deserve to be happy. -_

“What did she say?”

Reid slid the phone across the table to Jennifer. Her eyes widened as she read the note and when she passed the phone back, she looked a little paler than before.

“How long have you been divorced?” she asked quietly.

Reid blinked. “Almost two years.”

A sad smile broke out over her face. “She still loves you.”

“No… we’re just friends now,” he stammered and then rushed to bolster his argument when Jennifer raised a disbelieving eyebrow at him. “She started dating long before I considered it.” He felt as terrible saying it now as when she’d told him about it a year ago. At the time, he’d wished her well and then gotten blind drunk, waking up sixteen hours later in a sweaty mess on Rossi’s sofa with no memory of how he got there. Rossi just offered him coffee and a bucket, with a weary _‘welcome to the club, kid’_.

Jennifer shook her head gently. “She still loves you.”

She didn’t. They didn’t. It was just over. Irrevocably. “Well… even if she does, there’s nothing we can do about it.”

Jennifer laughed her polite, let’s-cover-the-awkward-moment laugh. “Oh, there are things you can do about it, Spencer.”

She rose from the table and placed her napkin next to her half-finished meal. He watched her, not doing anything to convince her to stay, and it felt like an opportunity slipping from him. He’d truly enjoyed meeting her and wondered what might have happened if he’d forgotten his phone at home. Then he saw it: her hair, her eyes, her trim, capable silhouette in her subtle designer dress, the undeniable beauty that had turned more than one man’s head in the restaurant that evening. His heart sank; if anything had happened between them, it would have only been a shade of something else.

“Spencer, you seem like a good man and it’s been ages since I’ve met anyone half as interesting as you. But it’s pretty clear that you’re not ready for this.” She tapped the table absently. “That’s nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, it’s sort of comforting to know that there are still men out there in the world who are capable of being _wrecked_ by love. It’s sort of old fashioned.”

She gave him a sad smile and he felt himself shrugging his shoulders at the comment that had been leveled at him more than once over the years.

“But as intrigued as I am by you, I’m not really invested enough in this,” she gestured between the two of them. “To wait and see if you sort it out. Sorry.”

It was Jennifer’s turn to shrug. He felt terrible, but what else could he do but watch her go?

“So, I’m gonna call it a night. Thanks for dinner, and for your honesty.”

He laughed mirthlessly. Whoever said ‘honesty was the best policy’ had obviously never been achingly single.

“Believe me, this isn’t the worst date I’ve been on. It doesn’t even crack my top ten.” He looked up at her and she winked at him quickly. She rounded the table and he thought she would just walk away, but she hesitated, reaching out a tentative hand to his shoulder. She watched him for a moment, her face unreadable, before dipping in and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. He felt her hand squeeze his shoulder ever so slightly. “If you decide to move on at some point,” she murmured as she pulled back. “Look me up. Anyone who can appear _that_ interested in the personal drama of an international study about rhinoviruses is worth a second date.”

She smiled quickly and then was gone, not waiting for a reply. He smiled too as he watched her go - a sad, polite smile. Some moments in life were obvious. In that moment he knew he’d never see Pretty Microbiology Jennifer again and part of him was disappointed.

He sat and stared at his mostly untouched meal for a while as the restaurant buzzed around him. Then he poured himself the last of the wine and picked up his phone.

_* So what did you have to tell me? *_

The answer came almost immediately. Maybe she was wondering if she’d hear from him again that evening as well.

_\- What about your date? -_

_* She left. Dealing with a texting ex-wife is probably more reality than she bargained for on a first date. *_

_\- Shit. I’m really, really sorry, Spencer. I’m a fucking jerk.  
Any chance she’ll get over it & give it another try? -_

_* Probably not. She said I wasn’t ready for this. Not in a mean way - just like it was a fact or something. Maybe she’s right. *_

_\- It’s been 2 years, babe. I’m not sure that waiting until you ‘feel ready’ is the way to go. -_

_* Is that what you did? Just dived right back in whether you wanted to or not? *_

He looked at the sent message on the screen and saw his own bitterness staring back at him. He’d had too much to drink. He should apologize.

_\- Yeah. That’s what I did. And it hurt like hell & I wish I’d never done it. -_

He choked a little on his wine and set it down pushing the glass away from him as he reread her response. Then his fingers were moving faster than his brain could catch up.

_* She looked a little like you. I didn’t realize it until it became clear she was leaving. I guess I’m not ready for this because that made me so angry and disappointed. Angry because I didn’t recognize it, and disappointed because it was the YOU in her I liked, not her. *_

His phone was silent in his hands. He didn’t care, or maybe the wine had made him reckless.

_* It’s been years. Why can’t I get past this? What’s wrong with me? *_

_\- Spence, there’s nothing wrong with you -_

_* She said you were still in love with me. Are you? *_

He stared at the screen until his eyes hurt. His fingertips turned white where they gripped the phone’s edges too tightly.

_\- Yes -_

_* You are??? Well, what…  
What the FUCK, Emily??? *_

_\- You’re swearing. Are you drunk? -_

_* Yes I am, and don’t change the subject! *_

_\- What do you want me to say, Spencer? I made the right decision when I married you and I made the wrong one when we divorced. I’ve regretted it almost from the moment the ink dried on the papers. -_

_* Fuck. FUCK.  
You tell me this now? After two years? After I’ve spent countless hours wishing I’d stood my ground and demanded you stay? After all of the fruitless daydreaming about somehow moving to London and making it all work?? *_

_\- Baby, I’m sorry. The truth is you made the right call then. If you’d asked me to stay I would have, and I would have probably resented you for it in time. I’m not sure what other choice we could have made. But the moment I realized what a mistake the divorce was, I told myself to keep it a secret. It wouldn’t have changed my choice about Interpol but it would have made us both miserable about it. -_

_* You let me believe you were dating *_

_\- I was dating, and it was completely awful. Every guy was… so much LESS than you. I gave up pretty quickly. -_

The phone was shaking in his hands, making it hard to keep the text from squiggling, so he put it down on the table in front of him and focused on his breathing instead. He needed to calm down. This revelation didn’t really change anything anyway.

_* I don’t know what to think about all of this. *_

_\- I get that. Believe me. That’s part of the reason why I needed to talk to you so urgently. -_

_* I don’t understand *_

_\- The Bureau has hired me. I’ll be flying into D.C. in two days.  
I’m your new boss, Spencer. -_

Oh, come _on._ How was that fair? So, she’d be back but still hopelessly out of reach? He felt like throwing his phone across the restaurant and walking out on his life.

_\- Hotch has been permanently reassigned to the task force he’s on. I don’t think he’s happy about it but I get the feeling that the Director didn’t offer him a choice._

He stared at the phone in front of him but couldn’t find the energy to take it on. He suddenly felt as if his life had just been an endless parade of stupid, painful situations ever since his Dad walked out on him. And for all of his intellect, he couldn’t understand what he’d done to deserve that.

_\- Spencer? You still there? -_

_* This isn’t fair *_

_\- What isn’t fair? Do you not want me as your boss? -_

_* It isn’t fair that we can’t get over one another, and that you’re coming home, and even so, we still can’t be together. *_

His phone fell silent and that didn’t surprise him. He looked around the restaurant and was assailed by how it was filled with happy, busy people. People on dates or with families or celebrating something with others they cared for - just dozens of people living out their lives without a second thought for how complicated that could get if they were slightly less lucky. He caught his waiter’s eye and made a ‘check, please’ hand gesture. The guy wandered over a moment later with a consoling sigh as his eyes flicked to the empty seat across from Reid.

“Is your… lady friend done? Should I wrap up anything?” he asked quietly.

“No, we’re fine, thank you. Just the bill.”

The waiter nodded and slid the receipt across the table. Then he politely disappeared, as if embarrassed. Reid pulled out some money and laid it on top of the bill. He tipped generously; there was no sense in spreading his misery like a communicable disease. His phone buzzed again.

_\- Spencer, I accepted this job in large part because of you. I want things to change for us. For the better. I want us to work this out. -_

_* Work it out how? *_

_\- I don’t know. But I love you, so that’s where I’m going to start. -_

The pressure in his chest lifted for a second as he read the words. He traced his fingertips over them. “I love you too,” he whispered.

_\- Meet me at the airport in 2 days, Spence. Please. Give this a chance. -_

He considered the screen for a while and then typed his response before pressing SEND and slipping his phone into his jacket with the intention of studiously ignoring it for the rest of the evening. He’d had quite enough for one day. Then he stood up and walked out on yet another dismal first date.

\----

He was almost late to the airport. More second guessing had happened before he left his apartment - he was beginning to wonder if it was a mild form of OCD or something. He wore his ‘date’ suit - he didn’t know why - and he was as nervous as he’d been before meeting Jennifer for dinner. It was just plain stupid.

The fortunate thing about his lateness was that he didn’t have to wait long and therefore skirted the high probability of worrying himself into a twitchy frenzy in the interim. Suddenly, she was just there, walking down the ramp from customs and baggage claim, and when her eyes found him she just _lit up_. It made his heart crash around under his ribs like a trapped bird to see it, and then he was moving towards her because it had been too long. _Toolongtoolongtoolongcomeherecomecloser…_

“Hi!” she said bright and breathless as she dropped her bags when he reached her.

She was more beautiful than his memories of her, more vibrant, both darker and lighter than the way he saw her in his mind. A part of him chirped _‘so much for the perfect recall’_. What was the point of having an eidetic memory if it didn’t come close to the real thing? And he saw the changes as well: the lines around her eyes were deeper, her make-up was slightly more artful in its camouflage, her hair seemed just a shade darker… But the changes were just details; she was still as exquisite as she’d always been to him.

“You look great,” she gestured at him as he stood staring at her like a dumb bunny. “Nice suit…”

She always did like him in a good suit. He was still staring and he couldn’t seem to snap out of it. She just grinned and waited - thank god she knew him well enough to realize that sometimes his brain stuttered on him. She whipped her phone out of her pocket and powered it back up.

“It was only an eight hour flight but I bet I have four thousand missed messages…” she grumbled.

He looked down and saw himself staring back from her phone’s screen. He couldn’t recall when it had been taken. His hair was shorter and he was wearing a dark tailored suit. She was next to him in something formal and stunning. But they were both laughing like hyenas, Emily nearly doubled over holding her stomach and he holding her steady, all teeth and laugh lines and bright cheeks. She looked at that everyday. His eyes flicked back to her face, stunned, but she was staring at her phone, one side of her mouth lifting in a smirk.

“Oh look, only twenty-seven missed calls. Lucky me…”

He grabbed her up and kissed her. She went rigid in surprise for an instant and then he felt her arms move around him holding him almost painfully close. He slipped against her lips trying to find a way to unlock her - it had been a while - but she opened up and he sunk in with a sigh. She arched into his chest and he bent her back with long hands splayed along her spine to feel every part of her against him. It shouldn’t have been a public kiss but he could help it; they were wrong apart - just _wrong_ \- and the sudden rightness after two years lapped at his barriers and flooded him utterly. He was dizzy, breathless, tingling, confused, and so unshakably in love…

“You’re not forgiven,” he husked when he broke away. She looked confused, delight and wariness flicking over her flushed expression. Her smile dimmed, but he was still holding her tightly.

“Okay…” she murmured carefully. “What’s this about then?” She had fistfuls of him in her grip, holding on as if her life depended on it.

“This is welcoming my wife home.” He pressed his forehead into hers and let his eyelids slip shut for a second. When he looked at her again, he knew his stare was fearsome. “But just because I love you more than I can bear doesn’t mean you get a pass on lying to me for the past two years, even if you thought you were doing it for my benefit. You are _not_ forgiven for that.”

He shook her gently to emphasize his point. She stared back and swallowed noticeably. “Understood.”

Glaring down at her for another moment, he broke and then dipped in to kiss her again. This time it was tender, tinged with the longing he’d done his best to set aside when he could. He pulled her lower lip gently between his and felt her tremble slightly. He wanted to tell her everything then - how deeply he missed her, how much she’d hurt him, how strange and resilient his love was, how empty the last two years had been… But he let his lips slip over hers and ate her tiny noises of delight instead. Her fingers thread through his hair and he curled her so close that when he got lightheaded they stumbled and almost collapsed in a heap. She steadied him and then leaned close, brushing his cheek with a shy smile.

“We need to pace ourselves,” she whispered.

He nodded as he gulped down a few much-needed breaths. “Listen, there’s something else you need to know.”

“What?” The worry was back in her voice.

“I’m not letting you walk away again. I don’t care if you’re my boss and regulations forbid it - some rules aren’t worth the price you pay. Fire me if you have to, I don’t give a damn. There’s no wiggle room for me on this point. Is that clear?”

“Yes,” she said uncertainly, and then pulled back to look him in the eye as she reiterated it with confidence. “Yes, I hear you.”

She watched as the noise of the airport swirled around them and swallowed up their nervous, excited breathing. He felt her rough nails bite into his back and along his neck as if he’d suddenly evaporate on her.

“I never stopped loving you,” she whispered almost too quietly to make out. “Not for a moment. I couldn’t figure out how.”

His pulse throbbed and boiled unevenly under his skin. He ended up closing his eyes and leaning against her to steady himself. “Emily…”

“When you texted that you were on a date the other night… I felt sick. That’s why it took me so long to answer. I had to pull it together, had to find it in me to wish you the best…”

His hand found its way into her hair, stroking it out in slow pulls. “When you told me you were going to start dating I went out and got so drunk that Rossi had to come and scrape me off a barroom floor.”

She pulled back to look at him. “Really?”

He nodded. “I was a smelly mess on his sofa for two days. I’ve never been so hungover in my life.”

“Fuck. Babe, I’m sorry…”

“It just killed me to think you didn’t want me anymore… that you were just past it already…” The words came out clumsily, swollen and ungainly with years of ache. She grabbed his face and held it too tightly.

“I wasn’t past it. I’m not. Some days…” Her voice shook like she was angry or devastated, or both. “Some days I thought I’d burst from all the want in me.”

He watched as treacherous, explosive feelings flicked across her face.

“A few times I went to Heathrow and just sat watching the departures board. I thought… it’d be so easy. Just buy a ticket and go. Find him, tell him… _beg_ him…”

“You’d never have to beg, Em.”

Her eyes got wide and perilously glassy. “Does that mean that someday you’ll let me marry you again? For good?”

“Not a vague, dismissive ‘someday’,” he smiled, feeling his face get hot at the idea that _she_ was asking _him_. “But whenever you like. Any time. I think my recent foray into dating has proven that I’m off the market. I can’t seem to put the ‘ex’ in front of my ‘wife’.”

She grinned and it seemed to trigger the tears. He gently wiped them away with a thumb. “Okay,” she said. “Okay, okay… okay…”

“You alright?”

“Probably. But… I dunno, maybe not completely,” she chuckled and shrugged. “I mean, I’m back, I have a new job, I have so much work to do and things to fix, I’m in love with this dangerously alluring nerd who’s going to work for me and _that’s_ gonna be an HR headache I can’t avoid, and I’m jetlagged and replete with exhaustion from all of the STUPID I’ve committed in the past two years, and I’ll have to start talking to Mom again and… yeah. Maybe I’m not completely okay.”

He laughed and she blew out a frustrated breath sagging gratefully against him when he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“Wanna go home?” he chuckled.

“Home?”

“I still live in the same place. _Our_ place.” He bent to collect a few of her bags with his free hand.

“You do?” she breathed in wonder. He looked down at her and shrugged.

“Yeah. I couldn’t leave behind all of those memories simply because thinking about them hurt sometimes. Most of them were good, beautiful. It felt like if I held onto that place the memories were alive somehow. They’d take care of me.”

Emily made a wet noise against him and he shoved one of her bags at her with his toe to distract her. They could get into all of that when they got home. They had all the time in the world now.

“Come on. Let’s get outta here.” She picked up the bag and he directed her gently towards the exit. But he took a moment to lean in and grin right up against her ear. “I’ve repainted though and you’re going to hate it. It’s _really_ bright.”

She groaned and he could tell that she was rolling her eyes at him.

“Listen, you leave for a few years, the husband gets to pick the color scheme. Thems tha rules,” he laughed, bouncing on his feet as they walked. 

She could paint the place any color she wanted. She could nail the furniture to the ceiling for all he cared. She was back where she belonged and suddenly his life didn’t seem like such a depressing parade of misfortune. But he was going to make her work for it. The new Reid wasn’t going to take things lying down this time around.

“The rules?!?” Emily snorted. “If you’ve painted everything purple we’re gonna have a duel to the death over it…”

“Big talk, Wife.”

“You wait and see, Husband.”

They bickered contentedly all the way to his car. It was just like old times.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first completed fic in my 2016 Gift Fic series. Originally, there was a prompt posting here on Ao3 but Site Admin decided it violated the archive's Terms of Service and subsequently deleted it _including_ all of the prompts submitted in the comments section. While I'd backed up some of the Ao3 prompts over on my blog, I didn't get all of them before the posting came down, so some of the requests are now lost to the vagaries of the internet. Sorry :(


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